


Memories

by LostGirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, adopted family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2258649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostGirl/pseuds/LostGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What people remember says a lot about who they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All things BtVS and AtS are owned by Joss Whedon and various corporate entites. I am neither.
> 
> For Petsitter, who wanted Giles and Wesley raising Connor, and donated to Medcins Sans Frontieres.

Giles' first memory of Connor, the first thing he thought about when he thought of the boy, was not the day Wesley arrived.  Then, he'd had eyes and thoughts mostly for Wesley.  Rather, his first real memory of Connor was a day or so later.  Wesley had been so despondent he'd barely spoken.  Giles, worried, had gone to the little crib he'd bought for Wesley to set up in the guest room.

He hadn't been snooping or looking for the answers Wesley seemed unable to give him.  He'd just wanted to look at Connor, as if that might tell him something.  Connor had been asleep, chubby little face hidden by a chubby little fist.

Reaching down, he'd pulled the blanket a little higher over the baby, sighing as he wondered where Connor had come from, who he belonged to.  Wesley wouldn't say, but Giles was certain Wesley was not the boy's father.  Sometimes, Wesley would talk to Connor and he always referred to himself as 'Uncle Wes'.

Just as he was pulling back his hand, Connor opened his eyes wide, a yawn stretching his mouth.  The child was apparently startled to find Giles watching him, he started to cry.

"Hmm," Giles said, reaching down to pick the boy up and hold him against his shoulder.  "I've never been known to frighten children before."  He kept his voice low as he bounced a little, glad when Connor relaxed against him and ceased crying.

"That's an odd sight," Wesley said from behind him.  Giles turned to find the man watching him from the doorway, a strange expression on his face.

"What is?"  Giles asked with a shake of his head, glancing over at Connor to find that the baby had fallen back to sleep and was, in fact, drooling on his suit coat.  The sight actually made him smile.

Wesley shook his head, mumbling something about Watchers and children.  Raising an eyebrow, Giles glanced at Connor once again.  "I, uh, I shouldn't be in your room.  I'm sorry."

Wesley looked surprised at that.  "It's your home," he said with a shrug.

"I see."  Giles had thought Wesley planned on staying, at least for a while, especially after . . . Well, he knew the other man had no place to go right now, knew there was no chance Wesley would go to his family.  Giles had brought that up only to see horror in Wes' eyes.

Walking past the younger man into the living room, Connor still asleep on his shoulder, Giles sighed.

"It could be yours too, Wesley.  If you need it to be."

\-----

Wesley never let himself think about the real first memories.  He never let himself remember the time with Angel and Connor and . . . It sometimes manifested in his dreams anyway, but he forced himself to not think about it.  It was the only way he could go on, after what he'd done.

It was for the best, he hoped.

His memories of arriving at Giles' home were allowed, but so blurry as to be all but useless.  He'd been so . . . lost.  He had to take care of Connor.  That had been the only thought driving him.  He'd only meant to stay with Giles for a few days, a week, if the man would let him.

His first memory, the first truly clear image, was about a week after he'd arrived.  Giles had made it clear that he was welcome, as was Connor, made it clear in many ways, though the one that stood out was his easy, open acceptance of the boy.  Still, the defining moment came when he'd told Giles everything.

He'd walked into the kitchen and found Giles laughing, applesauce on one lens of his glasses and Connor waving his now-empty spoon around, gurgling happily.  Wesley couldn't help it, he'd broken into tears.

The words poured out of him as Giles helped him into a chair.  All the memories, they rushed forward and he told the other man everything.  The silence that greeted his confession made him look up.  Giles knelt before him, eyes wide, staring.

"Angel's son?"  The words were a whisper, filled with emotions Wesley couldn't name.  He only nodded, waiting to see how Giles would react, fearing he'd be forced to find somewhere else for him and Connor to stay.

Giles blinked, sighing heavily.  "Well, then I suppose I should be thankful it's not pig's blood dripping down my glasses."  He shrugged, brushing his hand along Wesley's arm as he stood, and went back to the chair in front of Connor.  "Yes, I should, shouldn't I?" he asked the boy and it was Wesley's turn to stare.

\-----

His first memory was of a warm bed.  He remembered waking up, his room filled with the grey light of morning.  He slipped from the bed, small feet made a bit chilly by the hardwood floor as he wandered out into the living room.

His uncles lay on the couch, the television still on, Uncle Wes' head pillowed in Uncle Rupert's lap.  Connor climbed onto the couch, dropping his stuffed pig in order to use both hands.  Settling himself in front of Uncle Wes, he laid his head on the man's chest, listening to the low, steady breathing, the calm heartbeat.

He always checked.  Sometimes, when he'd crawl into bed or on the couch with his Uncles, Wes' heart would be beating fast and he would start awake and stare at the wall for a long time.  Connor didn't mind.  He just curled up closer to Wes, waiting while his Uncle said his name a few times.

Uncle Rupert always woke up when Wes did that.  Connor would look over to find Rupert watching them.  He never said anything, but he always stretched out a hand, laid it on Uncle Wes' arm.  It seemed to help most of the time.

Connor snuggled close to Wes, glad this wasn't going to be one of those times.  He looked up and found Uncle Rupert watching him.  Rupert smiled, reaching out and taking his hand.  Connor held onto it, wrapping his other around Uncle Wesley's fingers before letting his eyes shut and sleep drift in.


End file.
